


Darkness Consumes Me

by AWaywardCardinal



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/F, Grief/Mourning, LGBTQ Female Character, Mental Illness, Sign Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 03:00:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13965918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AWaywardCardinal/pseuds/AWaywardCardinal
Summary: The Dragonborn struggles to deal with her insecurities, and her mental illness catches up to her.





	Darkness Consumes Me

**Author's Note:**

> Dialogue within { } means a character is speaking in Sign Language. Also, to clarify, any mention of the Void is not in reference to Sithis.
> 
> Not my preferred debut to Ao3, though writing this has helped me cope with my own depression, which I've struggled with off and on for many years. I do hope to write more, though it may take some time before you see anything further from me. Please be patient. I write for myself, first and foremost. I enjoy sharing the fruits of my labor, but in due time.
> 
> This is my first foray into writing Skyrim fanfiction, so I hope my portrayal of Serana is as accurate as possible.
> 
> Feedback is greatly appreciated! Thanks for stopping by!

The stone floor against her bare feet was cool to the touch. It kept her mind from straying too far, or so she told herself.

Night had fallen hours ago, but sleep hadn’t come. She couldn’t say how long she’d been out of bed, sitting by the window on the other side of the bedroom. Long enough to know her heart felt heavy and her chest ached, the effects of stepping back into that endless void. The one she thought she left behind.

A candle sat on the floor beside her, its light illuminating her little corner of the room.

_You don’t deserve this._

_You don’t deserve her._

From her place, hunched over in her seat, Fyorith regarded the bed’s other occupant, sleeping soundly. Peacefully. She saw the way her hair fell over her face, strands of dark brown spilling out around her on the pillow. At first, the Dark Elf thought it the strangest sight, seeing a vampire sleep in a bed rather than in the confines of a coffin. But what did she know of vampires? Only what she'd learned from dusty lore books and whispered words. Serana wasn’t anything like that. She could be cold, and distant, but she was never cruel outright.

She was polite. Patient. Dignified. _Regal_.

And what was she? Fyorith was none of those things. She had blood on her hands. Her friends had died because of her hasty decisions.

How do you come back from something like that?

_She’s a vampire. Her past is no bloodier than yours. Don’t forget, she’s a Daughter of Coldharbour. You know what that implies: Serana is a survivor._

_Just as you are a survivor of your own past._

_But she is not me. She does not live with what I live with._

_She may be a vampire, but so are you, now._

Her tongue brushed over her canines, while fingers idly traced over a pair of scars left behind from when she willingly allowed Serana to turn her. That decision hadn’t been made lightly, and for lack of better word, it had been a turning point in their relationship. At least, it had for her. She had yet to ask Serana how she’d felt about it. Either way, Fyorith had been adamant about going into the Soul Cairn, whether Serana wanted her to or not. She didn’t regret her decision, not for a moment.

Vibrant green eyes fell to her hands, now resting in her lap. Being turned by Serana had been more for her own benefit. As Dragonborn, there was no one in the world who could ever relate to that experience. No one alive to help guide her, except maybe the Graybeards, but not one of them was Dragonborn. And certainly not Paarthunax, who couldn’t relate to mortal life. Her physical abnormalities, namely her unique eye color and elongated canines (teeth that often got her confused for a vampire), sometimes felt more like a curse than a blessing. Both were manifestations of her Dovah blood.

At least, as a bonified vampire, she took comfort in knowing she was less alone.

Despite that, she still felt very much alone.

_How can Serana love someone like me? I feel so numb. I can’t… I can’t feel anything. The Void, it's—_

Movement entered her peripheral vision, but she made no effort to catch the gaze of the woman standing before her now. She didn’t have to, because Serana was kneeling in front of her and those gorgeous eyes were all she could focus on. She must have known something was amiss once she realized Fyorith was no longer in bed. _Can’t hide anything from you, can I?_

“Another one of those nights?” Her voice was soft, calming.

Fyorith didn’t trust herself to speak. Not verbally, so she fell back on signing with her hands, letting them speak for her. She needed a distraction from herself, else she was afraid she would self-destruct. {Yes.}

The Dark Elf could see Serana begin to sign back with her own hands, but she quickly stopped her. {Don’t. Please, I… I need to hear you.}

Bright, golden eyes gazed back at her in understanding. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going through your mind right now.”

It felt like eons before Fyorith could get her hands working again, but once she did, they didn’t stop.

{Everything. I feel… I feel like I’m drowning. I can’t feel anything else, and it’s so cold. I’m so cold. The void… it won’t go away. I keep staring at it, into it, hoping I’ll find something, but there’s just nothing. I remember that my friends died because of me. They died because I was hasty. I watched them get Soul Trapped. I did that… it’s my fault.} Her throat constricted, making it difficult to breathe, and her vision blurred, but she kept on signing.

{And then… and then there’s you. I… I feel like I don’t deserve someone like you. I’m afraid you’ll grow tired of me, or get fed up, and you’ll leave. It terrifies me. How does someone like you find it in themselves to love someone like me?}

If Serana felt any pain at all for her response, she didn’t show it. There was only empathy.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” The words came out tentatively, golden eyes watching for signs of discomfort. One thing Fyorith appreciated above all else was how Serana always asked for consent before doing anything that required physical contact. It worked both ways, gradually building up trust between them.

{Yes.}

“Okay.” Soft, cool hands brushed over her own, eventually wrapping around them. She realized her hands had been shaking.

“I want you to know, that your feelings, your experiences, are valid. They are real. I’m sorry that you feel like you’re being dragged into Oblivion. It’s scary, and it’s lonely. But Oblivion won’t take you this night, nor the next. Not even the nights after.” Serana gave her hands a gentle squeeze. “You might not feel it now, but I want you to know how wonderful you are. You’re kind, and loyal. You help those in need when no one else will. You’re honest, and despite what you might think of yourself, you have a gentle heart. That’s what made me fall for you.”

There was no cry of anguish, and it didn’t come suddenly. It built up gradually, washing over her in waves, like water against the shore. Only the steady fall of hot, salty tears rolling down her cheeks, dripping from her chin brought her comfort in her grief. Her lithe frame shook softly, gripping her in pain but feeling something instead of the nothingness that plagued her all night. By Azura she was _feeling_. She wasn’t okay. Far from it, but Serana’s words had opened the door again, guiding her away from her Void, that waking nightmare.

Arms came up around her, encircling her shoulders and drawing her close. With her hands free once more, Fyorith clutched Serana’s shirt fiercely, as much as she could muster. She was afraid to let go, afraid this was naught but a dream. She heard a voice, breathing, and a slow, steady heartbeat that pulsed rhythmically, calming the chaotic whirlwind inside until it became a gentle breeze.

How long they were there, Fyorith couldn’t be certain. Long enough to be nudged awake and realize she’d fallen asleep on Serana’s shoulder. Feeling so much, and so suddenly, was so exhausting.

“As much as I enjoy this, I’d rather continue in bed. Stone isn’t exactly all that comfortable, if you catch my meaning.”

“Mmmph…” Fyorith groaned in reply, simply burying herself further into her mate’s shoulder. The action garnered a light chuckle from the other woman.

“Always so lazy. Come on. Up you get.” Helping her to her feet, Serana guided her very sleepy Dark Elf girlfriend back to bed. Even in this sleep-state, Fyorith knew Serana was grinning at her.

Nestling up to Serana like this, in the bed they shared together, Fyorith felt like the luckiest woman in all of Tamriel. She didn’t deserve it, but there was nowhere else she’d rather be.  


Just as Serana had settled in, draping an arm over her waist, green eyes caught gold. “What is it?”

An ashen-skinned hand came into the other woman’s line of vision and made a shape, extending three fingers: a pinky, index finger, and thumb into a sign that wasn’t just a handshape. It was also spoken aloud.

“I love you.”

She didn’t always expect Serana to say them back, knowing how difficult it was for her at times, so she settled for smaller gestures. When she did say them, she took it as a triumph. A little victory.

So, when she found a hand pressed against her own, mirroring her fingers in the exact same way, she cherished the moment. That was soon matched, maybe even outpaced, by the sound of Serana’s voice.

“I love you too.”

Sleep came easier that night.


End file.
